


Bad Medicine

by salacious_crumpet



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Adultery, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9714083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salacious_crumpet/pseuds/salacious_crumpet
Summary: There were few things Captain Malavai Quinn wanted less in this galaxy than to be left behind while his wife, the Dark Lord of the Sith Darth Xaora, the Emperor’s Wrath, went off to fight their enemies – but being left behind for the explicit purpose of treating her lover’s wounds was adding insult to injury. (Spoilers for the Sith Warrior storyline and for Shadow of Revan.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story exists outside the canon established in the 'Fire Meets Detonite' series.

There were few things Captain Malavai Quinn wanted less in this galaxy than to be left behind while his wife, the Dark Lord of the Sith Darth Xaora, the Emperor’s Wrath, went off to fight their enemies – but being left behind for the explicit purpose of treating her lover’s wounds was adding insult to injury. The only comfort Quinn had was that Xaora had taken her apprentice Jaesa Willsaam with her, rather than the ever-aggravating Lieutenant Pierce. Jaesa at least could be trusted to keep his wife in one piece – and probably ( _probably_ ) wouldn’t manage to tumble into bed with her.

Probably.

 _Damn her,_ Quinn thought, watching Darth Xaora and her apprentice hurry away from their temporary safe house on the Rishi island. Following quickly on the heels of that thought was another: _And damn me, too._

He’d been by her side every step of the way on Rishi – and before that, on Rakata Prime and Manaan as well. She’d even taken him with her when she went to rescue the blasted man, even though they’d both known he would have been perfectly content to let the Republic agent rot in the Revanites’ custody. At the end of the day Quinn was an officer of the Imperial military, and it was not in his nature to leave an ally – even one as dubiously entitled to that qualification as Theron Shan – behind enemy lines. Quinn knew it, Xaora knew it, and now Agent Shan himself would know it, too. Perhaps, if they survived all of this, the fool could take that information back to the Republic: whatever they thought of each other, whatever they’d been led to believe about the opposing faction, the soldiers of the Empire were loyal to a fault.

Even when those loyalties killed them. Even when those loyalties were supposed to kill the ones they loved. After all – which loyalty took precedence? The loyalty to one’s heart, or to one’s duty?

Quinn had been used to putting his own wants and needs on the line long before Xaora came sweeping into his life with all the subtlety of an oncoming storm.

He gave himself a small shake, forcing himself to set aside old hurts in the name of expediency and professionalism. Lord Xaora had asked him – ordered him, really, for all that it had been framed as a request – to treat Agent Shan’s injuries, and that was what Quinn was going to do.

The young man – or rather, younger; if the dossier Vette had managed to pull was correct, Agent Shan was a good fourteen years Quinn’s junior, making him about twenty-eight years old to Quinn’s forty-two – sat hunched over on one of the wooden crates that were scattered about the Rishi hut that served as their emergency safe house, one hand clutched against his side while he stared blankly at his datapad. Much as Quinn wanted to hate him, he had to admire the agent’s bravery and strength. He’d managed to all but free himself from the Revanites’ compound, and that after undergoing days of torture; it certainly put some doubt to the stories of the laziness and cowardice rampant within the Republic military that Quinn had been spoon-fed on Dromund Kaas. Perhaps his resilience was a result of his heritage – surely being the son of one of the most powerful Force-users in the galaxy had to have _some_ benefits, even if the man was Force-blind as he claimed. Or perhaps, as Lord Beniko had suggested, Agent Shan’s implants had given him a greater chance at survival, beneficial as they were in resisting pain and chemical manipulation.

The implants posed a challenge, Quinn suspected – at least with regards to treating the young man’s injuries. If he was resistant to chemical manipulation then he likely possessed a greater than average tolerance for pain medication as well. Quinn may not care for him, but he was a healer first and foremost, and as much as he wanted to put his fist through the agent’s perfect face (well, not so perfect at present, given the bruising) he disliked the idea of causing him more pain during his treatment. It felt … unprofessional. Déclassé, as if Quinn didn’t have the skills or the courtesy to ensure proper care and pain management.

 _Once more unto the breach,_ Quinn thought, picking up his medkit and a couple bottles of water and making his way towards the agent. The younger man didn’t look up at his approach, and it wasn’t until Quinn thrust one of the bottles directly under his nose that he came back to himself with a start, blinking hazel eyes up at the medic. Those eyes were slow to focus on the water bottle in front of him, and he frowned, clearly confused.

“It’s water,” Quinn said, setting his medkit down on a nearby crate and continuing to hold the bottle out to the agent. When Agent Shan still didn’t react he sighed and unscrewed the cap, taking a small sip and swallowing before wiping the mouth off and handing the bottle to the other man. “See? It’s not even poisoned.”

Agent Shan made a face, accepting the bottle from him and taking a swig. As Quinn had suspected would be the case the younger man’s swig turned into a gulp, and before long he had emptied the bottle. Quinn had the second bottle opened and ready for him before he set the first bottle down.

“There’s more, if you need it,” he said quietly, as Agent Shan accepted the second bottle from him. “Slowly, though, or you’ll make yourself sick. I imagine it’s been some time since you last had anything to eat or drink, and torture tends to make one thirsty.”

The agent started to nod, then stopped, grimacing, the hand that had been pressed against his side going up to cautiously probe the bruising along his implants. He let out a low hiss when his fingers brushed a particularly tender spot.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment, frowning faintly as though confused. “Why … Why are you helping me? It’s not like you’ve been subtle about Xaora’s decision to work with me.”

 _‘Work with you,’_ Quinn mused, repressing a snort of derision. _Yes,_ that’s _why I have a problem with you. Because you’re ‘working’ with my wife._

“Lord Xaora,” he corrected automatically, turning away and unbuttoning his uniform jacket. He removed the jacket and folded it once before draping it over the back of a chair, then unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt and began rolling up the sleeves. Agent Shan regarded this process with a look of some suspicion, but made no comment. “Lord Xaora requested that I tend your injuries in her absence, and it’s seldom been in my best interests to refuse to honour my wife’s requests.”

There was no mistaking the wince Agent Shan made at that little revelation, and Quinn felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the young man as he realized the agent hadn’t known. It made him feel more predisposed to kindness to know that Agent Shan hadn’t knowingly been sleeping with a married woman. Quinn had wondered if she had told him she was married; it seemed she had withheld that information. It made him think better of the agent – if not better of his wife.

Quinn had been under no illusions as to who and what she was when he had married Lord Xaora. She was Sith; their appetites and passions were well known, and that she had agreed to bind herself to him in the bonds of matrimony had not necessarily meant she intended to remain completely faithful to him. But she had always been discreet, limiting her affairs to men outside Quinn’s circle of acquaintances, limiting the likelihood that he would come across a man she had slept with. And her affairs had always been brief – a momentary diversion, nothing more, and afterwards she always came home to him. He always knew that he remained first and foremost in her heart, if not necessarily in her bed. One could not reasonably expect fidelity from the Sith, especially not from a Sith as powerful and beautiful as Lord Xaora.

“Kriff,” the younger man said, sounding so painfully Republic. And young. Damn, but he was young. He met Quinn’s gaze, hazel eyes troubled. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I had rather wondered,” Quinn admitted softly, turning away and opening his medkit. He was a good judge of character – generally – and the agent sounded sincere, although it occurred to Quinn that a man whose career was based around lying and manipulation had most likely mastered the art of faking sincerity.

“I’ll …” Agent Shan swallowed hard, then tried again. “I’ll break it off with her.”

“Why should you?” Quinn asked. He turned back, running a critical eye over the younger man. The jacket and shirt would both need to come off; he didn’t know if Agent Shan would be able to undress himself on his own, however. He didn’t particularly fancy the idea of helping his wife’s lover with disrobing, even in the interests of medical treatment, but if the agent couldn’t do it he supposed he would need to assist him. “You’re enjoying yourself, presumably, and so is she. I see no need for you to end things with her just because you’ve discovered she isn’t as single as you had previously been led to believe.”

Agent Shan blinked at him again. He did it so often he began to remind Quinn of an owl.

“She’s _married,”_ he said.

“Yes, quite,” Quinn agreed amicably. He held up his left hand, showing the plain gold band on his ring finger. “I’ve good cause to know, considered it’s me she’s married to.”

Agent Shan let out a huff of annoyance that quickly turned into a choked-off cry of pain as the movement twinged something in his chest or side. Quinn suspected cracked or broken ribs, judging from the way he held himself.

“Well, does she let _you_ sleep around?” the young agent demanded, and Quinn smiled bitterly.

“No,” he acknowledged in a tight voice, “she does not.” He paused, looking away before adding, “But then, I don’t want to, so it’s a moot point.” He couldn’t even conceive of wanting anyone the way he wanted Xaora, so the fact that she was a jealous creature – and she _was,_ jealous and possessive in heaping quantities – was a non-issue as far as he was concerned. True, it wasn’t fair that she was allowed to be unfaithful while he was expected to remain fully and completely committed to her, but then – she was Sith, and they were Imperial citizens. Life was seldom fair in the Empire, particularly when one was Force-blind. The rules were different for the Sith.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Agent Shan asked.

Quinn debated giving him an honest answer, but he doubted the younger man understood the complexities of life in the Sith Empire and he didn’t fancy explaining the matter in the depth this discussion would require. “It’s complicated.”

Agent Shan snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Sure. Force-blind minions do what they’re told while the Sith do whatever the fuck they want.”

Ah. Perhaps he did understand, then. “Yes, quite,” Quinn said again, unperturbed. He’d had rather a lot of time to grow accustomed to the notion, even if Agent Shan was still struggling to wrap his head around it.

Quinn sighed, having grown tired of the topic. He didn’t feel like defending his loyalty towards Lord Xaora to a Republic agent, and he most certainly didn’t feel like defending himself to the Republic agent who was _sleeping with_ Lord Xaora. Ultimately whatever Agent Shan thought – or didn’t think – about Quinn and his relationship with his wife, it didn’t matter. At the end of all of this the agent would be going back to his nice safe home in Coruscant or wherever he lived, and Quinn and Xaora would return to their apartment in Kaas City, and Xaora and Theron Shan would ideally never cross paths again.

“You’ll need to remove your jacket and shirt,” he said after a moment, the abrupt change in topic catching the agent by surprise.

“I … what?”

Quinn sighed again. “Your jacket. And your shirt. They need to come off.” When the agent still didn’t move he gestured impatiently. “I assure you, I’ve no designs upon you beyond the desire to see your injuries properly treated – a desire which will be more readily accomplished with your clothing out of the way, although I suppose if you insist upon remaining fully clothed I can endeavour to work around that.”

Agent Shan’s cheeks – and, interestingly enough, the tips of his ears – turned a deep shade of pink, much to Quinn’s hidden amusement. After another brief hesitation he gave an awkward half-shrug and began to struggle out of his red jacket, his efforts hampered by his extremely limited range of motion. Quinn found himself somewhat impressed that the young man had been able to affect his own escape from the Revanites; it was clear he was in a significant amount of pain and his mobility was severely impaired. Quinn gave him a bit of time to attempt to remove his own jacket and shirt, sensing Agent Shan wasn’t particularly keen on having an Imperial touch him (well, _this_ Imperial, at least), but after a minute or so it became obvious the agent wasn’t going to be able to undress himself without assistance.

Being careful to telegraph his movements beforehand – Agent Shan was injured, but Quinn had seen him fight and knew he was no slouch in that department – Quinn took hold of one of the jacket sleeves and gently eased the younger man’s arm free. The other sleeve was easier to slide down, and once the jacket was off Quinn expedited the removal of Agent Shan’s shirt through the simple expediency of using bandage scissors to cut the fabric away. The red leatheris jacket was a bit scorched and in need of a good wash, but the shirt was beyond salvaging.

Once Agent Shan’s jacket and shirt were removed Quinn had a better opportunity to see the extent of his injuries, and he was once again amazed at the younger man’s tenacity. Even with the assistance of pain-dampening implants the agent had to be in a considerable amount of pain; frankly, Quinn was surprised he hadn’t keeled over yet. That he’d been able to free himself from the Revanites … Quinn shook his head.

“What?” Agent Shan managed to impart a significant quantity of suspicion into that one word.

Quinn arched an eyebrow, turning his portable med-scanner on and lifting it to assess the younger man’s injuries. The readouts flashing across the viewscreen held few surprises for the Imperial officer: numerous contusions and lacerations, multiple cracked ribs (only one broken; that _was_ a surprise), various burns and incisions from the interrogation droids. Agent Shan was a mess and no mistake.

“You weren’t expecting anyone to come save you, were you?” Quinn asked, putting words to the thoughts that had been nagging at him since he had accompanied Lord Xaora to rescue the agent. Oh, to be sure they had had other reasons for attacking the Nova Blades compound, but Quinn was under no illusions that saving Agent Shan wasn’t his wife’s chief priority. He might have felt a twinge of jealousy over that if he hadn’t already known that Lord Xaora would have put in the same amount of effort towards rescuing any member of their nebulous alliance. Whatever her feelings for the SIS agent – and Quinn felt certain his wife _did_ have feelings for the younger man – Agent Shan was a part of her team, her crew, and she would do far worse than simply tear apart a horde of pirates to protect someone she considered _hers._

“Honestly?” Agent Shan attempted a shrug but only managed to half-lift one shoulder before giving it up as a bad job. “No, not really. I figured Lana left me to hang and the rest of you were on board with that plan.”

Quinn held his tongue. He’d already suspected Lord Beniko had deliberately allowed Agent Shan to fall into Revanite custody, but it certainly wasn’t his place to comment on or criticize a Dark Lord of the Sith. He could see the merit in Lord Beniko’s plan – Agent Shan had proven to be a valuable resource and had been able to acquire a significant amount of information while a prisoner of the Revanites – but he could also understand why the agent would be angry at the perceived betrayal.

“I’m not certain how things are done in the Republic,” he said at last, somewhat stiffly, “but in the Empire we do not waste valuable resources. Of course we came to rescue you.” He studiously refused to think about Darth Baras, who most certainly _had_ wasted valuable resources – who had, in fact, based an entire _campaign_ around wasting resources, a campaign which had led to Quinn making the worst decision of his entire life. He did not wish to consider Baras as being representative of the Empire as a whole; he particularly did not wish to consider the late Darth as being representative of _him._

“Well, you’ll forgive me for being skeptical,” Agent Shan replied, and Quinn felt an unexpected pang of sympathy at the mixture of bitter cynicism and hurt in the younger man’s tone. He sensed there was a story there – a lengthy and deep-seated history of trust issues and pain that marred the SIS agent’s past – and he told himself he wasn’t interested in knowing more. They were allies for now, and perhaps Agent Shan was a good man, a good agent, but he was still a Republic citizen and at the end of this campaign they would go back to being enemies. There was no point in allowing himself to be caught up in the other man’s struggles and sorrows, not when they’d be back to being on opposite sides of the fence once this was all over.

Never mind the whole issue with Lord Xaora. It was easier on Quinn if he pretended his wife’s lovers didn’t have personalities and quirks and painful life stories. Normally Lord Xaora did him the courtesy of picking lovers he wouldn’t have to interact with. He didn’t want to consider why she would choose to make an exception with Agent Shan.

Quinn worked in silence for a time, speaking only to direct Agent Shan to move or reposition himself in certain ways, or to ask him questions relating to his injuries. His hands were deft and quick, applying kolto wherever it was needed, stitching up the worst of the lacerations, bandaging the young agent’s ribs. Agent Shan was equally quiet, lost in his own thoughts – or teetering on the verge of unconsciousness; it was difficult to tell – with only the occasional grunt of pain or hissed expletive. Quinn was impressed by the younger man’s pain tolerance; it was clear the agent was badly injured, but the fact that he was still moving and mostly under his own power was remarkable – and Quinn was accustomed to working with the Sith, whose stamina and recuperative powers were enhanced by the Force. Agent Shan had no such advantage, and his implants could only be doing so much.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” Agent Shan said, out of the blue. When Quinn blinked at him in confusion he clarified, “Xaora. Me.”

“Lord Xaora,” Quinn replied automatically, smoothing down a fold of kolto-infused bandage around the younger man’s midsection. When Agent Shan simply stared at him, hazel eyes intense, he sighed and nodded reluctantly. “Yes, of course it bothers me. Who wouldn’t be bothered by his wife’s infidelities? Especially when it’s thrust into my face like this?”

“Kriff.” Agent Shan rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, cheeks reddening again. “Believe me, if I had known she was married …”

“I do believe you,” Quinn said, much to his own surprise. “I suspect that’s why she didn’t mention it.” He sighed again, rather heavily, and sat back on the nearby crate, resting his hands on his thighs. “I love her, Agent Shan. I’ve loved her from the moment I first laid eyes on her, and every second she’s in my life I thank the Force for bringing us together. But it’s always been like this. She’s never been completely faithful to me.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but Quinn couldn’t bring himself to discuss his own far worse betrayal of Lord Xaora, the events of the transponder station, Darth Baras’s skillful manipulation of him. Lord Xaora _had_ been faithful before that – faithful, or at least more discreet in her infidelities. Since that time, however, she hadn’t hesitated to indulge her passions whenever they came up. She never thrust her affairs in his face, but since the transponder station she had made less effort to cover them up. To a certain extent Quinn knew this was her way of punishing him for his betrayal, but at the same time he suspected it was her own strange concept of courtesy: that he should know, rather than have it hidden from him, what his wife was up to when they were apart.

“But _why,_ though?” Agent Shan asked, sounding completely mystified. “If it hurts you to have her sleeping around, why do you let her do it? Why do you put up with it?”

“I don’t _let_ Lord Xaora do anything, Agent Shan,” said Quinn stiffly. “She’s a Dark Lord of the Sith and the Emperor’s Wrath: aside from the Emperor himself, Lord Xaora answers to no one. And aside from that, she’s her own person. I’ve no right to attempt to control her.”

“That’s not what I mean at all,” the younger man replied, confusion giving way to righteous indignation. “I don’t mean you should be able to control her. I mean … Kriff, I never thought I'd be asking an _Imp_ this ... I mean why do you let her _hurt_ you like this? If it bothers you, why don’t you say something to her? Why don’t you _leave?”_

Quinn stood and began packing up his medical supplies, making busywork for his hands and providing himself with an opportunity to avoid looking at the other man.

“Because I love her, Agent Shan,” he said again simply, still facing away. “I love her, and I would rather be miserable with her than happy without.”

“That’s … I’m sorry, but that’s just all kinds of fucked up.”

Quinn snorted, a bitter smile quirking the corners of his mouth. “You’re not wrong.”

Agent Shan let out a sound that Quinn suspected was supposed to have been a sigh, but was cut short by a sudden twinge from his ribs. When Quinn turned, he saw the other man lift his hands in an expansive gesture, his expression troubled.

“Look, I’m probably the last guy who should be giving romantic advice,” Agent Shan said after a moment, “but I’m pretty sure love isn’t supposed to be like this. Love isn’t supposed to hurt.”

Quinn looked at the younger man, reading the compassion and sympathy in the hazel eyes. Agent Shan’s face was earnest; he had the kind of honesty Quinn wasn’t accustomed to seeing within the Empire, a kind of openness that was usually stripped away from years of exposure to the Sith – exposure that Agent Shan, as a member of the Republic, simply didn’t have. Quinn wondered idly what his own life would have been like, had he been born a Republic citizen.

It didn’t bear thinking about. His life was what it was, and he was a proud and loyal citizen of the Empire. Still, Quinn couldn’t help but envy Agent Shan’s naivete.

“Well, you’re all patched up,” he said at last, changing topics. He gave the agent an awkward pat on the shoulder and picked up his medkit. “I’d try to tell you to take it easy for the next few weeks, but we both know that isn’t likely to happen so instead I’ll simply advise you to attempt to rest for the next few hours.”

Much to Quinn’s surprise the agent actually took him up on his suggestion, curling up in an out of the way area in the hut. He was still asleep when Darth Xaora and her apprentice returned several hours later, and so Quinn was able to draw his wife aside and speak to her quietly, updating her on the younger man’s condition while she debriefed him on the results of her latest operation. Once the two of them were done with the necessities, Quinn glanced over at the slumbering agent and placed a hand on his wife’s arm, sliding his fingers down her bared skin until he was holding her hand. She quirked one dark eyebrow at him, curious.

Emboldened by Agent Shan’s words, Quinn squeezed Lord Xaora’s fingers tightly and offered her a wan smile.

“Please, my love … We need to talk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to anyone waiting on another chapter for 'Past Imperfect,' but this story was demanding to be written and wouldn't leave me alone until I did. :P


End file.
